


underneath the harsh sun we're barely human

by chesire (kierenwalkers)



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Canon, this is the 10k phinks/phinfei backstory no one ever asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierenwalkers/pseuds/chesire
Summary: When the Genei Ryodan aren’t busy stealing or wreaking havoc, they wander. Somehow, between all the jobs, the fights, the sharp smell of blood in the air, Phinks finds himself with Feitan. (And maybe he falls in love along the way.)





	underneath the harsh sun we're barely human

**Author's Note:**

> honestly my hxh spiral this summer + past few months was quite...something to see. worst of all, icb the first hxh fic i decide to write are for two side characters who have probably ten minutes screentime and 20 panels added together!! i'm so starved for phinfei content, this fic is purely the result of me watching the auction arc and furiously insisting that the two were on a date (you can't tell me they WERENT). i started this back in august and only finished it now....because of school but what can you do when almost no content exists for your ship u__u i still can't write makeout scenes so i apologize in advance. additionally, in case you're curious [these](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.pinterest.com/pin/86412886573984658&sa=D&ust=1549029506325000&usg=AFQjCNG75cfUduVG-kJsI18nyM07tRjW5Q) are the kinds of books feitan reads (tw: body horror, blood). 
> 
> massive thanks to rei, both for betaing this and listening to me rant about phinfei and dissect their entire dynamic from those two minutes in the yorkshin arc. also ty for getting me into hxh <333
> 
> fic title inspired by grip by bastille and seeb

“You guys can do whatever you please. Just come when I call,” Chrollo had said in Meteor City after their first job, after Uvogin had asked _what now, boss?,_ teeth razor sharp and knuckles dark crimson. Pakunoda had looked on quietly at him with expectation in her eyes. There had been a palpable tension in the air, threatening to burst– you can only have so much raw, untamed power in a place– until Chrollo broke it himself. 

He left wordlessly, back to their faces. They all stayed until he disappeared amongst the piles of garbage. The foul stench of everything rotten in the world had filled Phinks’ nose and as he inhales, he realizes that this– Meteor City– is no longer home. Not that it ever was, but now he has the power to go wherever he wants, do whatever he wants, and no one can hold him back. The thought makes him grin and he cracks his knuckles in anticipation.

Franklin is the first to leave. Then Machi and Pakunoda– all three in different directions. Nobunaga and Uvogin make a big show of one last fight before they storm off in opposite directions. Shalnark happily runs after Uvogin, shouting for him to wait to catch up. Everyone is gone; now it’s just him and Feitan. 

Feitan huffs. It’s so quiet, Phinks almost doesn’t hear. 

“H-hey,” Phinks shouts and Feitan pauses, turning around. His black eyes drill into Phink’s soul– it’s the same stare he uses when he’s going against an opponent who appears to be bigger, stronger than he is before he rips them apart. The same stare Phinks has seen a thousand times over before Feitan passes by, unimpressed.

Phinks gulps. 

“Where are you going?” He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks flushed, looking at Feitan’s feet because it eases the intensity. 

“Does it matter?” Feitan drawls, “Go where we want. Heart’s desire.” 

He walks away, hands shoved into his pockets, just like all the other members, into the piles of junk underneath the setting sun. Phinks squints at the orange ball of fire. It looks disgusting here, with smoky haze emanating from the piles of trash. He scoffs, crossing his arms. 

“Yorbia’s nice. Maybe there.” Feitan calls. Phinks’ lips twitch upwards into a small smile and he waits until Feitan’s body has disappeared into a tiny black dot on the horizon, just like Chrollo’s, before he walks away in the opposite direction. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phinks lets out a whoop as he jumps over the pile of concrete. He glances behind him, wind filling his lungs and large grin plastered on his face. The adrenaline pumps through his veins. The last time he got a rush like this was when he was five and successfully stole candy from the shop at the street corner for the first time. It was a handful of coconut candies. They tasted sweeter than anything Phinks ever had before.

Now, Phinks glances down at the irregular bulge in his satchel. Pride swells in his chest. He’s always liked weird, old relics. This one in particular is extremely rare. And now it’s Phinks’ and Phinks’ alone. 

“Stop right there!” a voice shouts. It trembles with fear. 

Phinks does a quick take of his surroundings. There are rows of market stalls to his left he can easily get lost in. If he continues straight, he could duck into some empty side alley and lose the cops. But where would the fun in that be?

As he considers his options, he slows down to a leisurely jog. Despite the scorching sun, he still hasn’t broken a sweat. Phinks leads the cops on a wild goose chase for a few more blocks before he finally stops. 

“Need a hand?” A familiar voice asks. Feitan slinks out of the shadows, slouching, hands tucked in his pockets. 

He looks different– it’s not just the ridiculous black scarf and the heavy clothes he’s wearing– but there’s something different about his aura. Something darker, more sinister than when Phinks last saw Feitan. 

There’s still half a minute until the cops catch up. 

Phinks grins. “The one to kill the most cops wins.” He rotates his arm backwards once, warming up his shoulders. None of the cops are Nen users, but with Feitan this should be fun. The wicked gleam in Feitan’s eyes tells Phinks all he needs to know.

When they’re done, the streets of the nameless Kakin City are stained with blood for weeks to come. Hushed whispers of the duo linger in the city to this day, caught in the dusty corners filled with cobwebs. 

Years later, when Phinks asks Feitan what he was doing in Kakin, a whole ocean across for the Yorbian continent, Feitan will just shrug his shoulders and go back to reading his Trevor Brown book.

(“You totally like me.” Phinks crows. Feitan doesn’t respond.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meteor City is a city full of garbage and abandoned items. It’s a landscape made of forgotten once-somethings. Waste piles so high they become skyscrapers, filling the air with their foul stench and dirtying the sky with smog so thick it slips and slides down your throat until you can’t breathe. It’s a perfect place to dispose of anything unimportant.

There are two types of orphans in Meteor City. 

There are the orphans left as wailing infants to fend for themselves and there are the children in Meteor City who grow up to become orphans. 

Phinks still remembers his parents. He remembers the warm smile of his mother’s face and the rough hands of his father as he lifted Phinks onto his shoulders and ran around the pile of garbage rearranged into their house. He remembers leaning over the kitchen stove, watching his mother cook and wincing as she scolded him for getting too close to the fire. He can retell all the bedtime stories his parents told him– of far away lands where the sky was always blue and white clouds decorated the skies. They spun tales of golden cities hidden amongst the sand dunes and their powerful kings with sparking, golden headpieces and flowing white robes. Of powerful half-lion, half-human beasts that roamed the deserts, and the even more powerful heroes with magical powers that took them down to protect the village and could fend off the leader of the menacing troupe of bandits. 

(Phinks always thought the bandits were cooler.)

Phinks had parents– until he didn’t. His parents were abandoned by their parents as infants and grew up running through the piles of waste. They met amongst the groups of orphans, fell in love, then had Phinks. It’s a beautiful love story, really. But in a city where everything is an abandoned once-something, Phinks is just as important as his surroundings. Which is to say– he’s not. Resources had gotten tight and old habits die hard. Now, Phinks sleeps in a makeshift shelter of old metal sheets and runs with the other lost children. 

He learns fast, quickly gaining a reputation amongst the groups of orphans. Phinks prefers operating alone; it’s easier and less troublesome. He’s strong enough to do so, and even if he’s not, he’ll just get stronger. His punches are already something to be terrified of, especially if he starts winding up his arms. Save for the blond girl with the really weird nose and the boy with the strange hair, Phinks mostly sticks to himself. It works out. 

There’s another kid who the orphans stay away from. He’s small and short and talks funny with a strange accent even though they can’t remember a time they didn’t see him in the trash dump, the other kids whisper. _He kills pigeons for fun. He pulls their talons off first and then rips their feathers off one by one before cutting of their wings and tails!_

Phinks first meets him on his way back from a successful haul, bag filled with bread and chicken and pockets flowing with candy. So he’s in a good mood and stops when he notices a small boy hunched over with a metal stick, prodding the ground. When he gets closer, he sees a large beetle with its wings spread wide open. Its left wing is half torn off and its legs twitch in every direction. In fact, when Phinks looks around, half-torn wings and shells surround the boy. 

“Why are you doing that?” Phinks asks, squatting down directly in front of the smaller boy. The boy’s face is expressionless. 

“It’s fun.” The boy says. His voice is soft, but not in a way the crying children speak. With his free hand, he reaches for a knife in his boot. His eyebrows furrow as he slips it underneath the beetle’s shell and begins to peel it back, ever so slowly. The beetle’s entire body begins convulsing and black blood stains the dirt. 

Phinks isn’t so much as drawn to the way the beetle’s legs quiver as he is to the look in the boy’s eyes. They glint with an unnamed emotion that sends shivers down Phinks’ spine. 

“Why’d you stop?” Phinks asks, when the boy wipes his knife on the dirt and releases the beetle’s wing. The beetle drags itself across the ground, entire body jerking every few paces. 

“Not fun when I can’t hear their pain.” The boy says. He dusts off his pants, standing up. 

“Wait,” Phinks calls out as the boy walks away. With a few quick strides he’s by his side again. “I’m Phinks.” 

“Feitan,” the boy replies. He leaves after that. 

It’s the first time Phinks meets Feitan before Chrollo, and he finds himself running into the strange boy more often after that. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He quickly settles into a pattern. Between jobs, Phinks alternates between fighting and hunting. He makes sure to go over the basics every day (because in the beginning, before the boy with the cross-shaped tattoo held out his hand to Phinks, it was practicing his punches until his knuckles were bleeding with a discarded punching bag and skirmishes with other orphans that made Phinks stronger). Sometimes, he goes to Heaven's Arena just for the hell of it. He's not Uvogin, but Phinks won't turn down a good fight. He's hooked on the adrenaline rush– there's something satisfying about the crunching of bones underneath his fist, snapping like twigs.

And, when he's not busy throwing punches and dirtying his knuckles with blood, he wanders. He searches the world for mythical artifacts. When he manages to locate one, he steals it. There are enough legendary relics to line the small bookshelf he has in the safe house he has tucked away in the middle of a nameless Jappon forest.

Chrollo tends to call them every few months. Some of the meetings are mandatory, some of them aren't. Phinks always comes. This time, it's Pakunoda who tells him as he's walking out of Heaven's Arena, ready to board a blimp to Glam Gas Land to hunt down the next lead for a cursed jackal canopic jar part of a set he's been trying to collect.

"What's it this time?" He asks, grinning. His knuckles twitch in excitement at the prospect of blood.

Paku shrugs, turning on her heels before disappearing into the alley.

When Phinks rolls into a dusty library a month later, he's annoyed. Annoyed because of the pesky transmuter he had to fight on his way out of the ruins and who stole the liver from the canopic jar, but more annoyed because he's late. Okay, so technically they have eight more hours to arrive, but Phinks likes to arrive at least twelve hours in advance. Stupid Nen user and their goddamn fire ability. He's going to have burn scars for weeks.

Phinks glowers as he plops down next to Shalnark, who's busy dealing out a fresh hand of cards to Uvogin, Franklin, and Machi. "Wanna play?" Shalnark asks. Phinks grunts in reply.

Chrollo sits in the corner, thumbing through a book pulled off the shelf. Phinks' eyes occasionally darts towards their leader. He begins thumbing through another book half an hour later. Nobunaga arrives two hours later. He makes eye contact with Uvogin, huffs, then goes to the other side of the room to sharpen his sword.

Three hours later, Paku strides in, observing the room with a careful glance. She sits down at an empty table.

"Hey Phinks, is Feitan coming for this one?" Uvogin asks as he tosses down a card.

Phinks grits his teeth when he looks down at his possible moves. They all suck. "How the hell would I know? Why are you asking me anyway?" He puts down a four of spades.

"Feitan usually comes before Phinks does," Franklin remarks.

"Aren't you usually partners with him?" Shalnark asks casually, but when Phinks looks up he's met with a sly grin. Phinks' eye twitches.

"We're partners because we work well together." He grumbles. He is not going to let Shalnark's comment get to him. 

He stops playing after another hour because Shalnark keeps smirking whenever Phinks finds himself looking at the library entrance. He sits down in the chair next to Paku, putting his feet up on the table and closing his eyes. Paku continues wiping down her gun until it shines.

The door opens for a third time forty-seven minutes before Chrollo's time limit. (Not that Phinks had been keeping track, or anything.) Feitan strides and takes the empty seat next to Phinks without a single acknowledgement, save the curt nod to Chrollo.

The question burns on the tip of Phink's tongue, but before he can open his mouth Chrollo snaps his book shut. Feitan's eyes meet his. Phinks swallows the curiosity, turning back towards Chrollo as he explains the job. It's simple enough; they're raiding a museum's set of antique calligraphy paintings made with human blood and human skin. However, the security is a bit tight. The curator has his own personal bodyguards along with hired mafia members. According to Shalnark, the curator and museum director are both Nen users. Still, it's nothing they won't be able to handle.

Feitan doesn't speak until they've split into pairs. The two of them are on the roof of a nearby skyscraper, keeping an eye out for any mafia or external backup that might be called.

"You're annoyed." Feitan comments, peering down the street. He narrows his eyes. _Don't jeopardize the mission,_ they say.

"Well, fuck yeah I'm annoyed. Why the hell were you so late, Fei?" Phinks' arm twitches. He itches to wind it up and feel the power building at his fingertips. There better be a good fight tonight.

Feitan's eyes narrow and his nose scrunches upwards into a sneer. "You'll jeopardize the mission, _baichi_. My business is my own."

"Yeah, yeah, each leg to their own," Phinks grumbles.

For some inexplicable reason, that ticks him off even more. He crosses his arms, glaring at the asphalt below. Feitan doesn't chastise him for the barely concealed bloodlust, but Phinks can feel his eyes trained on his back. One wrong move and that'll be the end of him, friend or not. The thought makes him shudder.

Sometime later, the roar of a car engine breaks the still night. Phinks grins and swings himself over the building's ledge. Feitan lands behind him a moment later, quiet as the night itself.

"What do you say we make this a competition?" Phinks smirks.

"Oh?" Feitan's eyes glimmer. "And what does the winner get?"

"Anything he wants." Phinks answers as mafia members start piling out of their cars, aiming their guns at them.

"Anything?" Feitan muses, in that lilting tone of his. Phinks cracks his knuckles, and that's the only answer Feitan needs to hear.

For the next half hour, there's nothing but the twisting and snapping of necks as Phinks methodically takes out every person in his way. He relishes the way the soft flesh bends in his hands and bodies crumple to the ground. By the time they're done, over two hundred mafia members lie dead on the street.

"Man, they couldn't have sent us a Nen user or something?" Phinks sighs, prodding a dead body with his foot, "how many?"

"Ninety-eight," Feitan replies. He wipes the blood off his sword on a dead man's shirt before sheathing it.

"One hundred and two." A smile spreads across Phinks' face. By all means, Feitan is faster, quicker, and more ruthless than Phinks. It makes the victory all the more sweet.

Feitan tsks, shoving his hands back into his pocket. "What do you want?"

Phinks takes a moment to savor the victory. _What does he want?_ He looks at Feitan and the hard expression on his face. If Phinks were to pull down his bandana, Feitan's lips would be undoubtedly twisted into a scowl or a leer. He moves towards the shorter boy, hand rising of its own accord. Feitan watches him as one hand tugs down the fabric– and yeah, Phinks was right, he's scowling– and the other, stained with blood, cups Feitan's cheek. Phinks leans down.

It's not a gentle kiss. Phinks kisses hard enough to bruise. He presses their bodies closer together– folds his anger and bloodlust into Feitan. Feitan doesn't kiss back, but his hands come up to rest at Phinks' waist. His lips part for Phinks and it’s like his entire body is on fire. Dead bodies and wreckage surround them, any one of the troupe members could walk onto the street and see, but Phinks continues to kiss Feitan, yanking on the other boy's hair to pull him closer. 

When he finally pulls back, he and Feitan are both breathing hard. An electricity even more exhilarating than the adrenaline during the fight flows through his veins. To Phinks' satisfaction, Feitan's lips are a dark red. There's dried blood smeared on his cheek from where Phinks' hand was and his hair is rumpled. Feitan looks unfazed.

"Was that all?" Feitan asks. His fingertips linger on his lips as he pulls his bandana back up. There's still a streak of blood the black fabric doesn't hide. For once, Phinks is uncertain of the emotion in Feitan's eyes.

"Yeah." He's still breathless, like the oxygen's been sucked out of his lungs until he's about to faint. Something heavy is placed in his hand. Phinks looks down at the crudely wrapped package.

Before Phinks has the chance to open his mouth, Machi and Shalnark step onto the street. A few minutes after, Nobunaga and Pakunoda exit the museum with Chrollo, arms filled with translucent scrolls. Phinks and Feitan are quickly pulled into Shalnark and Nobunaga's playful bickering as they return to the library. No opportunities arise for Phinks to ask Feitan about the parcel before they disperse into all directions, floating away like spiders on strands of silk.

Later, when Phinks is on a boat sailing towards the Mimbo Republic, he pulls the parcel out of his bag. Peeling back the cheap newspaper, he finds a gray, oddly-shaped stone. It's the missing liver.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He bumps into Feitan in a seedy hotel on one of Ochima's many islands two months later. Phinks has taken a small job from a wealthy family to take out a rival family's son before he can elope with their daughter. Typical. (Also, Phinks could use the cash.)

When he knocks open the hotel door, sending it flying into the opposite wall, it's to the sight of Feitan bent over a slumped body tied to a chair. The carpet is stained with blood and the red circle continues to expand. "Wasn't expecting you," Feitan says, pulling out a fingernail. The victim lets outs out a sob.

"Guess they wanted to be extra sure they weren't going to elope." Phinks shrugs. He sits down on the bed, eyes drawn to the cuts littering the man's chest. Dark red blood flows out out of them. The sound of metal scraping on metal sends sends chill down Phinks' spine, but the glee in Feitan's eyes as he approaches the chair replaces it with an unidentifiable emotion.

Later, once they've delivered the body to the horrified face of the father and collected their money, Feitan pulls Phinks into a nearby alley. His fingers crumple Phinks' collar before he yanks him down and pushes him against the wall. It's painful. Their heads crack against each other and Phinks has to hunch down to kiss back properly. Feitan practically rips Phinks' lower lip before they're kissing. There's too much teeth and he can feel Feitan's fingers digging into his chest and the back of his neck. A metallic taste floods his mouth. The sharp tip of Feitan's canines graze his lip before he bites down, grinning against Phinks' mouth.

Phinks' hand twists in Feitan's robe and his other comes up to pull on Feitan's hair. He lets out a small groan as Feitan presses his body against his until there's no room left, no space to breathe, no space to think. There's a fire in front of him and Phinks couldn't be more mesmerized.

When Feitan finally pulls back– not before biting Phinks' lip one last time– he smirks. And all Phinks can think about is how utterly _ruined_ he looks. Feitan's hair sticks up in every direction and blood stains his mouth. The fact that it's _his_ blood makes his mouth go dry. Phinks catches red on the white gleam of his teeth before he pulls his bandana back up, wiping the blood off with his sleeve.

After he leaves, Phinks leans his head against the brick wall. His lips feel like they've been stripped and rubbed raw. There's going to be scars on his neck and chest for the next few weeks (and when showers he can't help but marvel at them, fingers tracing edges where scar meets skin).

 

 

 

 

 

 

They meet again in a nameless marketplace a month later when Phinks is in the middle of tailing a Deep Sea Hunter who just excavated treasure from an underwater city. There's supposed to be a pendant belonging to a sea witch and the crown of an ancient ocean king among the goods.

"So, are you in?" Phinks asks. "It'd be nice to have a some help." That's a lie. Phinks never takes on jobs he can't do alone.

Feitan sets down his book. On its cover, there's some grotesque child sitting on a bathroom floor with surgical tools spread around her and an eerie smile on her face. Phinks shudders. Great, they now have another book freak.

"Sure," Feitan answers in his airy voice.

Phinks grins. They get the treasure with ease. When they part, Phinks' pockets are heavier and his heart is fuller. He's not sure why he lingers as Feitan leaves without a hint as to where he's headed. (After has vanished into the crowd, and only after, does Phinks trace his lips with his finger.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next time it's in Yorknew City. Phinks helps Feitan eradicate an enemy syndicate for the mafia. There's gore everywhere. Feitan likes to draw out the pain, be as thorough as possible when torturing others. Afterwards, Phinks leans down and presses his lips to Feitan's. He thinks he imagines a smile against his mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Need a hand?" Phinks smirks as Feitan glares at the umbrella on the top shelf. Phinks reaches up, purposefully taking a long time to do so. Before his arm reaches Feitan's hand, the other boy snatches it out of his hand.

"Very funny," Feitan says. Phinks laughter fills the department store as Feitan marches away. He stops at the end of the aisle and turns around, raising an eyebrow. "You coming?"

Phinks laughter dies on his lips. "What?" he sputters. And it's like he's fifteen again, blushing and scratching the back of his neck underneath Feitan's intense stare.

"That was an invitation, _baichi_ ," He says, mirth dancing in his eyes. Phinks’ lips curl upwards to match Feitan’s hidden smile. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chrollo calls them in for another job. When Feitan arrives, he weaves his way past the clutter in the abandoned warehouse to Phinks' side. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Shalnark. He grins wickedly as he meets Phinks' eyes. Internally, Phinks groans. Shalnark may not be as perceptive as Machi, but he's the most likely to blackmail one of them. He's going to have to start collecting material on Shalnark. Maybe he can ask Feitan for help.

This time, it's him and Nobunaga with Chrollo. There's a small twinge of disappointment as Feitan leaves with Paku for recon, but Phinks quickly squashes it. He's with the boss, after all.

See, the thing is, before Chrollo, Phinks was just a dirty street rat. He was trash in a junkyard, abandoned by the abandoned. When his Nen awakened and power coursed through his veins, and he learned how to wield the crackling energy between his fingertips, the elders began to fear him. If it weren't for Meteor City's policy of accepting everything abandoned, Phinks would have been discarded again.

So, when Phinks returned to the dumping grounds, still wound up from the fight earlier and listens to a strange boy preach his even stranger ideals, he took to them like a moth to a flame. (Anything, _anything_ was better than what he had then.) Chrollo was bright then, eyes shining with a fervor that others would call insane. But to Phinks, they held unspoken promises of a new world.

"You and Feitan seem close these days," Chrollo notes.

"Huh?" Phinks nearly trips over the crack in the sidewalk. "Yeah, I guess you could say that, danchou. We've helped each other on a few jobs. We work well together, I suppose."

"Hm." Chrollo looks lost in thought. Phinks shoots Nobunaga a look, but Nobunaga only shrugs. Sighing, Phinks shoves his hands into his pockets and follows the boss. He can only dream of understanding what goes on in Chrollo's mind.

After they've completed the mission, and everyone has parted ways, Phinks sidles up to Feitan. "So," he begins, scratching the back of his neck, "what's next?"

Feitan ponders the question for a moment. "There's a sword I want."

 

 

 

 

 

 

If someone were to ask Phinks what his favorite thing about Feitan was, his first response would be the explosive fireball that Feitan's Nen takes on when he's pissed. His anger and pain become volatile flames. They blaze with a hot fury that doesn't distinguish between friend or foe. It makes Phinks tremble in fear and awe as he watches the hot flames lick upwards into the sky in the middle of the Azian continent. His skin burns from the heat and his mind screams at him to _get the hell out of here_ , but all he can hear is Feitan's laughter inside the roaring flames. (He almost doesn't make it out alive.)

There's also the suffocating darkness that Feitan's aura transforms into when he burns with a cold rage. It snakes around victims’ ankles, slowly crawling up their torsos, squeezing their bodies until there's nothing left.

Feitan, Phinks thinks, has too much wrath to be the moon. He _burns_ with an anger that demands attention, uncaring of who it touches and what it harms. No, the moon is Chrollo, Phinks decides. Unknowable and mysterious, drawing others towards it as it illuminates new paths with its eerie light, but ultimately distant. Feitan is more of a wrathful sun, calm unless angered; the threat of explosive pain looms underneath the surface.

There's a certain look Feitan gets in his eyes when he inflicts pain. It's different from the black fire that happens when he's mad. There's a hint of something darker, more sinister as Feitan presses a knife to his victim's skin and his eyes watch red blood flow. To others, his face may be impassive as screams and tortured sobs fill the air, but Phinks can see the hint of a twisted pleasure hidden deep below. (He would know. He's spent a lot of time staring at Feitan's eyes.)

And when Feitan _really_ gets excited, his face lights up with an unbridled glee. It happens when they're on a job for Chrollo to steal scarlet eyes from special clan. Phinks watches, enraptured, as Feitan's slips the knife behind the glowing scarlet orb. He watches the pleasure in Feitan's eyes as the man kneeling in front of him howls in pain but Feitan continues to move the knife ever so slowly. He watches the bright red blood splatter across Feitan's face as he pushes the man back and the scarlet eye pops out. Feitan's delighted laughter fills the forest. It rises above the tortured cries of agony and he laughs and laughs and laughs. He laughs as he forces the man's head back once again, silver edge of the knife catching the sunlight before it slips behind a brilliant red. Phinks holds his breath. All he can hear are whimpered moans; all he can see is Feitan's face narrowing in concentration as he makes sure to cut every single muscle fiber.

After, when Feitan has two ruby eyes glowing in his hand, he wipes the blood off his knife on the grass. Slowly, ever so slowly, he looks up to meet Phinks' eyes. His bandana lowers to reveal a lopsided smile.

Phinks spends the rest of that day observing Feitan's face– his eyes– cycle through emotions as he collects the crimson eyes. When the last man is finally dead, lying with two empty eye sockets on the ground, Phinks grips Feitan's collar and yanks him forward. His hands are stained with blood and Feitan is covered with gore, but none of that matters. Lifting Feitan up and pushing him up against the nearest tree so he _doesn't have to hunch down again_ , Phinks swipes his tongue over the razor sharp edges of Feitan's mouth. Feitan's breath is hot on his; the air between them is charged with bloodlust and electricity. He digs his nails into Phinks' scalp– they're still warm with blood. He's going to have a hell of a time explaining that when he gets back.

(This time, he knows he didn't imagine the small curve and glint of canines before their lips met.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The troupe gains new members, loses some of them, then gains new ones in their place. Although Chrollo speaks about replaceable heads and legs, the original eight legs and Chrollo himself have yet to be replaced. Phinks settles into a new rhythm; when he's not with the troupe, he wanders. He goes wherever he feels like, traveling to whichever place calls out the loudest and searches for legendary artifacts on the way. Most of the time, Feitan is with him.

He gets used to the small man beside him on the lackadaisical blimp rides and stormy ventures into the sea. Phinks becomes accustomed to the harmless banter between them. Feitan may not speak often, but that stop the insults from rolling off his tongue. More than once, Feitan's pointed glare has shut Phinks up. He's as quick with his jabs as he is on his feet.

Feitan's presence becomes an almost-constant. Phinks' aura no longer prickles when he uses En; even if Feitan uses Zetsu, he can can still discern faint traces of his presence from other signs. ("Annoying," Feitan had grumbled, the first time it happened. Phinks suppressed the urge to tousle Feitan's hair. He'd just get his hand ripped off.)

"Just so you know, I haven't lost yet," Phinks grins at Franklin, rolling his shoulder and flexing his fingers. Franklin responds with a single, "Hmn."

"I hope he loses," Nobunaga sniffs as he watches sullenly.

"If he loses, then he'll have to go against me." Feitan says, in that quiet, lilting way of his.

"Yeah, and I'd beat you too! Where's the support, Fei?" Phinks yells. There's an amused glimmer in Feitan's eyes.

"You two bicker like an old couple," Shizuku notes in that blunt way of hers.

For a moment, Phinks freezes. Like everything she says, it's straight and to the point. His eyes catch Feitan's and his ears burn. Feitan’s expression is unreadable.

"Look, he's blushing!" Shalnark pats Uvogin's shoulder, howling with laughter.

"Am not," Phinks grumbles. He tears his eyes away from Feitan’s, acutely aware of the gaze fixed on the back of his neck and the warmth of his ears.

"I bet Phinks will win," Chrollo comments. Something in Phinks chest soars.

Hisoka's head snaps up; the deck of cards in his hands stop moving. "Oh?" he says, yellow eyes glinting with bloodlust. Phinks feels physically nauseous like he does whenever Hisoka speaks. "What if we make it interesting and raise the stakes a bit?"

"Sure," Chrollo agrees.

The face Hisoka makes barely suppresses his excitement. Phinks really wishes he could put the clown's head through a wall of concrete. They're all sick, but Hisoka is on a whole different level.

"I'll bet fifty thousand jenny." Chrollo says without looking up.

Hisoka deflates, and Phinks lets out a sigh of relief. Shouts and insults quickly fill the hideout as the troupe members place their bets. During the entire exchange, Feitan remains silent, arms crossed. Phinks flashes him a grin before turning around to face Franklin in a life-determining round of arm-wrestling.

Right now, if someone were to ask Phinks if he was content, he'd answer yes in a heartbeat. He likes the rambunctious laughter that fills whatever hideout the troupe is staking out in; he enjoys the jests and poking fun at Nobunaga with Feitan until he bursts. Phinks relishes the chaos and mayhem that follow wherever they go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It all changes when they go to Yorknew City.

Phinks' entire world is pulled from its roots, shaken roughly a few times, before finally being slammed back down without a second thought. All by the same chain-user.

It's been awhile since Phinks has been consumed by such a strong, intense hatred. (The last time was when he came back to the makeshift pieces of iron called home, only to discover no one was there.) He's less sure of whether it's because of how badly a single person could shake the spider's ideals, or because of Uvogin and Pakunoda's deaths.

Still, life goes on after, just as it always has. There are some constants that never change. A sorrow that looms over the warehouse, filling up the excess empty space. Machi turns even more distant and cold while Nobunaga's moods fluctuate. Shalnark feels the need to fill the silence with laughter that grates on all of their ears. Coupled with Chrollo's absence, the warehouse makes a depressing place. Phinks hates it.

Phinks attends the auction with Feitan despite the lingering ache in his chest. Despite the stiff suit and the way his shirt is buttoned all the way up to his throat, it’s the first time in days that Phinks feels like he can breathe.

"I haven't seen you without that bandana in awhile," Phinks comments as Feitan walks out of the bathroom stall with a black bowtie. He shifts around in cushioned chair; the bright lights and overpowering perfume in the bathroom’s waiting area are a bit too much for his taste.

"I haven't seen you in proper clothes until now." Feitan counters without missing a beat. He climbs onto Phinks’ lap, hand on Phinks' chest.

"Hey, my tracksuits are _designer_." He's only a bit hurt. Phinks spends a lot of money and time on his wardrobe; it's not easy when you're a member of the Genei Ryodan and have Blacklist Hunters on your back. Besides, Feitan really shouldn't be talking considering _his_ fashion choices.

Without his bandana, Feitan looks exposed and more vulnerable than he has in years. However, Phinks knows that Feitan could easily kill him fifty painful ways, making sure to draw out every single moment so he really feels it. Feitan's fingers are cool where they brush against his neck as he tightens his bow tie.

When he's done, Feitan places his hand on Phink's chest, right above his heart. He stares at Phinks, eyes sharp. _You're thinking too much, baichi._ So, Phinks stops thinking and leans down instead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Phinks may have been a tad more aggressive than usual when they were stealing a copy of Greed Island, but if Feitan noticed, he didn't comment. Besides, it felt good to let out some of the frustration that had been festering inside of him for the past few days. Phinks has never been good at controlling his temper anyway.

At first, it's just him and Feitan and Greed Island is just one of the thousands of places Phinks has been. They kill indiscriminately, stealing other player’s cards, and slowly gain a reputation for themselves. During the day they alternate between randomly picking off players to steal cards from and hunting down more experienced players and torturing them for information. Phinks enjoys the fights, no matter how small they are and how quickly they end. (He also enjoys the smug gleam in Feitan's eyes after they leave yet another player lying in the middle of the woods.)

During the night, Phinks will sit next to Feitan as they examine their cards, sides barely touching. As they’re on their way to Masadora, Feitan falls asleep against Phinks' side one night. Phinks shuts his binder and is careful not to fidget too much since Feitan is a light sleeper. With his dark bangs framing his face and his light snores, Feitan almost looks like a child. Just as Phinks debates between waking up Feitan and incurring his wrath or letting his arm fall asleep, Feitan nuzzles his face against Phink's arm. The motion is practically like a cat, and the thought of Feitan being compared to a cat is just so ridiculous Phinks shakes with silent laughter. If sleeping Feitan is like a cat, then a conscious Feitan is an evil, disgruntled black cat.

After that, the feeling of Feitan's bony shoulder pressing into his arm each night becomes a familiar sensation. One night, as Feitan leans over comparing their card slots, Phinks is tempted to pick up the smaller man and place him on his lap. He thinks Feitan would probably gouge his eyes out if he did that, so he places his hand on Feitan's hip instead.

"Do you think any of these empty card slots have something that can restore danchou's Nen?" Phinks asks, ignoring the look Feitan gives him. Still, Feitan makes no move to remove his hand, instead leaning in closer to examine the empty slot Phinks is pointing at. Phinks bites back his smile, the warm smugness settling in his chest.

"Perhaps," Feitan answers, "but we'd need to beat game first."

"That could take awhile." Phinks replies. As of now, the two of them together only have fifty-three distinct cards. Even at their current rate, there's no saying how long it'll take them to collect A cards and above.

Before Feitan can reply, a familiar aura prickles at the edge of Phinks' senses. Feitan's eyes dart upwards as three people enter the forest clearing. Phinks tenses, and he unconsciously grips Feitan tighter.

"Well, good thing that won't be necessary," Shalnark chirps, "because I know where we can find Greed Island in the real world."

"What do you mean?" Feitan hisses.

"Now, now, don't get all like that," Shalnark raises his hands as he laughs. The smile slapped onto his face seems tacky and he eyes Feitan carefully. His gaze falls on Phinks' hand on Feitan's hip and for a brief second, his smile falters.

"Shalnark thinks we can find Greed Island in the real world," Shizuku says.

"How long have you guys been here?" Shalnark asks.

"Almost two weeks." Phinks replies, confused as to where Shalnark is taking this.

"And Shizuku, about how long have Phinks and Feitan been gone in the real world?" Sometimes, Phinks _really_ finds Shalnark’s cheery smile infuriating and wants to rip it off his face. 

"Two weeks." Shizuku answers.

Shalnark beams. "See, time here passes the same as in the real world. For the most part, our Nen also works. I also have a few other reasons to suspect this place exists in the real world. If we can find this place–"

"Then we can help danchou regain his Nen. If there's anything that can help him, it's probably here." Phinks is bubbling with anticipation. In his excitement, he accidentally squeezes Feitan. Feitan sends him a sharp glare, but right now Phinks couldn’t care less.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they return from the game, Franklin only lets out a quiet "oh" in acknowledgement. It turns out that the trek to Greed Island in the real world involves crossing the Yorbian continent and sailing east. While Phinks can handle blimp rides, there's nothing he hates more than the monotonous rocking of boats.

"And who is this?" he demands after they've boarded the boat Machi, Nobunaga, and Bonolenov have stolen.

He points to the small child dressed in a kimono with piercing pink eyes. They can't be more than eleven or twelve, yet something in the way they carry themself suggests that they've seen much more than the average person. Their gaze reminds Phinks of the soulless eyes of Illumi Zoldyck, but not nearly as empty. Phinks represses a shudder. While Hisoka makes him uncomfortable and grates on his nerves, Illumi is downright _creepy_. Phinks will never admit it, but he had nightmares the entire week after the Mimbo Republic incident.

"Kalluto Zoldyck," the child responds.

Phinks exchanges a look with Feitan. _Great,_ he thinks, _what's going to happen next? Illumi Zoldyck joining the ryodan?_

"He's the newest member," Nobunaga informs them. The implicit _Hisoka's replacement_ hangs in the air.

Besides him, Feitan bristles. "And when was this decided?" His voice comes out raspy, but no less threatening.

"When you two were away in that game of yours," Machi replies, arms crossed against her chest. She returns Feitan's stare without batting her eyes. The tension between them grows, expanding until the warm nighttime air becomes frigid.

"And whose decision?" Feitan asks. For a moment, no one breathes. Even before Yorknew, Machi and Feitan just barely got along. Ever since the beginning, the two of them had always butted heads, preferring to use others as intermediates between them. Machi was closest to Pakunoda the same was Shalnark was closest to Uvogin and Phinks knows that her death affected Machi significantly.

Kalluto glances back and forth between them. His hands tighten into fists by his side and the left one twitches.

"It was danchou's decision," Machi answers icily. There's a brief flare of killing intent as she and Feitan continue their glaring match. Phinks holds his breath and resists the urge to step closer to Feitan.

"Now, now," Shalnark claps his hands, letting out a forced laugh, "we just got back together. There's no need to kill each other. Yet."

"No fights, remember?" Shizuku adds. The tension in the air slowly dissipates.

Phinks sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. They haven't started sailing yet, but as soon as they do Phinks is going to want to vomit if he stays on deck for too long. "I'm going to rest. Wake me up when we're almost there." He says, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he slinks off.

Luckily the first room he enters is empty. It's furnished with the bare minimum; the pillow underneath his back is lumpy and the blankets are worn thin, but Phinks has had worse. He shuts his eyes, attempting to fight off the initial wave of nausea that comes as the boat begins to sway back and forth. In all honesty, Phinks has no issue dealing with seasickness. He just finds it embarrassing and doesn't want his image to be ruined.

Sometime later, the door opens with a small _click_. Phinks can sense the person cross the room silently before the bed dips and there's a familiar weight on his lap. Hands tug his crossed arms and pull them apart.

" _Baichi_ ," Feitan breathes. His breath is warm and light with a hint of sharp metal to it.

Phinks opens his eyes and grins. "Sorry, I get a bit seasick." Feitan scoffs, but his hands are still gripping Phinks' forearms. Delighted, Phinks' grin only widens. "I'll be fine."

Feitan fixes Phinks with a hard glare. _Did I ask if you were?_ He guides Phinks arms so they're around his neck. Phinks unties Feitan's bandana. The black cloth drops between them and Feitan surges forward, cupping Phink's face with one hand and pressing him back with the other. Phinks mourns the feeling of Feitan's hands on his arms, but with Feitan's tongue in his mouth he can't really complain.

He kisses Phinks with teeth and claw– biting Phinks lips until a metallic taste floods their mouths and digs his hand into Phinks' chest. He's going to have to get his jacket mended. Phinks uses his hands to tug on Feitan's hair, pulling him closer. It's like this whenever Feitan is mad, but Phinks can't say he minds.

When Feitan finally does pull back, fingernails digging into Phinks chest, they're both panting. Feitan's hair is completely disheveled, his lips are red– both from Phinks' blood and from being swollen. Phinks is certain he's no better off.

"You're paying for that," he says as he pulls Feitan's fingers out of his chest.

"I'll steal a new one," Feitan says, placing his hand on Phinks' neck. He leans forward to quickly nip Phinks earlobe. There's a faint smile on his face, almost as if Feitan were laughing at him. Phinks is certain Feitan hasn't paid for a single thing in his life.

Shrugging, Phinks pulls Feitan back down, seasickness completely forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, when Phinks’ attention wavers, he thinks he can feel a pair of eyes focused on him. However, every time he turns around, the sensation vanishes. It only happens when he’s with the ryodan, but never when they’re out in groups of twos or threes. Back when they were younger, killing and stealing left and right, it occurred occasionally. Recently, it’s gotten longer and more intense. 

He’d mentioned it once to Pakunoda, back when she was still alive. Her only response was a knowing smile quickly hidden by a steaming cup of coffee, before Feitan came into the kitchen, hair resembling a bird’s nest from having just woken up. “The answer to that is more obvious than you think,” was her cryptic response before she left the kitchen. At the time, it was quickly forgotten because Phinks had much more interesting things to do in the kitchen. 

Sometimes Phinks thinks of Pakunoda and wonders what she meant. Sometimes, Phinks misses Pakunoda, misses Uvogin, misses Chrollo and what once was. Sometimes, Phinks wishes he knew what Feitan is thinking when his eyes become unreadable, wishes he’d open his mouth to ask between kisses _and what is this? What are we?_ But these are only sometimes, and a sometimes, Phinks knows, isn’t an always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Much to Phinks' ire, they get blasted off the island with a dodgeball and have to reenter the game like everyone else. They catch wind of a Nen Exorcist on Greed Island and end up having to ask _Hisoka_ of all people for help. (The thought of it still makes Phinks shudder.) And, worst of all, Kalluto follows Feitan around like a small puppy.

Despite Feitan's initial hostility, Kalluto has somehow made Feitan into one of the three people he's permanently attached him to. The youngest Zoldyck sticks to Machi's side like the plague; whenever Machi's icy blue eyes appear, sharp, pink ones are sure to follow. If Machi is gone, then Kalluto will hover near Nobunaga although he's careful to maintain at least four feet between them at all times, as if he can't decide if he should stick next to Nobunaga or not.

When Machi and Nobunaga are both gone, Kalluto trails after Feitan. He constantly glances back towards the smaller man, head tilted up, as if seeking approval. (Phinks notes with glee that the two are practically the same height.) Feitan gives Kalluto the same amount of attention he gives the other members, meaning he only spares Kalluto a glance as an afterthought unless there's a pressing matter. The whole thing would be funny if it weren't for small knot forming in Phinks' stomach that makes him slightly nauseous, and the lump in his throat making him afraid to speak.

"Do you have a crush on danchou or something?" Shalnark asks one night when they're sitting around the campfire, "With the way you keep sighing, it's like your husband has gone off to war and you're awaiting his return."

"Shut up!" Phinks crosses his arms. Unfortunately, Phinks does not possess the genetic ability to control his blushing. All he can do is hope the firelight masks the red glow to his cheeks.

"Phinks has been sighing a lot this past hour," Shizuku remarks.

Phinks flushes even harder.

"Aw, look, he's blushing." Shalnark points at him. Beside him, Feitan snickers. Kalluto's eyes dilate with shock, glancing back and forth as they take in the scene before them.

"I am not," Phinks says petulantly as he kicks a rock in front of him. "I'm just worried about danchou’s Nen."

"But you never said you don’t have a crush on him," Shalnark grins. When he sees how Phinks is shocked into silence, Shalnark howls with laughter.

"I'm going to get more firewood," Phinks grumbles. He knows when to pick his fights and when he's lost them.

When he's far enough from the clearing, he stops using Zetsu and allows the anger and frustration to seep out of him. He kicks the stone by his feet up into the air, watching it rise and fall, before he kicks it again. It whizzes through the air with a hiss before embedding itself halfway through a tree trunk. Phinks feels much better after that.

He's tempted to punch the tree too, but that would be overly petty. Phinks flexes his fingers; his fists are itching for a fight, to feel bone crunching underneath his hands and warm, wet blood staining his skin. Huffing, Phinks kicks up loose dirt.

The waiting, the accumulated tension– it's all going to kill him. Phinks has never been patient, preferring to end things sooner rather than later. At least before, when they were hunting for a cure tor Chrollo's Nen, he didn't have to spend every day bored out of his mind. Those first few weeks on Greed Island with Feitan were _fun,_ and that's all Phinks wants to return to.

Phinks nears one of the larger trees in the forest, and just as he begins gathering his Nen into his fist to punch it and actually _release_ some of his frustration, a small object grazes his cheek, hissing through the air before it embeds itself in the tree behind him.

When Feitan slinks out of the shadow, he fixes Phinks with one of his most unimpressed stares. _Control your fucking bloodlust._

Phinks grins, wiping the blood dripping down his cheek. "Can't help it," he shrugs, "We've been here for weeks and everyone is basically small fry."

Feitan rolls his eyes. He catches his knife that Phinks hurls at his face. Scoffing again, Feitan allows his aura to crackle around him. Phinks grin grows wider when Feitan meets his eyes. In the next second, the smaller man lunges towards him, unsheathing his sword. Phinks laughs aloud, the sound foreign to his own ears, as he focuses his Nen in his palms before he meets Feitan halfway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Years later, Meteor City is still composed of the same towering piles of rotting garbage and rotten people. The heaps of scrap junk, worn-out former valuables have grown even larger. More than once on their way to the town hall, he feels eyes trained on their backs coming from beings hidden deep within the stacks of garbage. _Town hall_ , Phinks snorts, as if this junkyard was civilized to begin with.

Kalluto glances towards him, making eye contact for a brief second, before glancing back down at the shifting sand in embarrassment.

"Your mom was from this city, wasn't she?" Shalnark asks. Phinks has no idea how Shalnark dug up _that_ juicy piece of information, but watching the way Kalluto struggles to keep his emotions in control is amusing. The kid looks offended that one of the elusive Zoldycks could even be affiliated with this smelly pile of trash.

"Yes," Kalluto responds stiffly.

"So you’re technically one of us then," Shalnark laughs. He doesn't make any effort to conceal the gleeful smile behind his mobile and Phinks _knows_ the man is enjoying making the kid squirm.

"He's one of us since he joined the ryodan," Feitan's voice cuts through the air. Kalluto's wide, pink eyes blink in surprise. He quickly regains the same, blank look the eldest Zoldyck always wears. Phinks pretends as if those words didn't cut into his chest the same way.

Huffing, he adjusts his headcrown, refusing to meet Feitan's eyes because. He's not sure if it’s because he doesn't want to get read like an open book, or he doesn't want to see what lies in the dark depths of Feitan's eyes.

"Let's just get this over with. How bad can a few fucking insects be?" Phinks grumbles.

 _Home._ At least that's what this place should be called. The word feels foreign on Phinks' lips; it's an uncomfortable syllable inside of his mouth. This place is no more a home than the concrete floors of nameless warehouses and the cramped bunk beds Phinks has slept in. He steals a glance at Feitan’s small figure, pale skin with only a wild mop of hair to distinguish him. Phinks has never had a home, but sometimes he can’t help but wonder. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turns out the couple of fucking ants are more than a mild insect infestation. But of course, Feitan ends up having all the fun. All Phinks wanted was a distraction and to blow off some more steam. Instead, he gets ruthlessly teased by Shalnark and Feitan with no outlet for this bundle of _feelings_ that have been festering since Yorknew City, so by the time they start making camp and setting up a fire, he's thoroughly pissed.

He goes to sleep early, under the fake pretense of being pissed off at Shalnark and Feitan. As Phinks listens to the nondescript chatter coming from the fireside. Sometime, somewhere in between wandering the world and razing cities, there had been an imperceptible shift in Phinks' world. He's unsure of when it started, and what it is, but it's been a small thought buried in the back of his head, growing and growing. It's only now come to light because of everything else that's happened. Phinks doesn't like it.

It's another few hours before the chatter dies down and the rest of the ryodan goes to bed. Feitan sets up his sleeping bag next to Phinks, but he doesn't go to sleep. Phinks can sense the hostility radiating from his body in small waves and the pair of dark, black eyes trained on the back of his neck. It isn't until later, when he's sure that the rest of the ryodan is asleep, under the thin cover of night, that Phinks asks, "Why'd you use that attack? You had others."

His voice comes out hoarse and scratchy. He blames it on prolonged exposure to the dry air. He wants to swallow the lump in his throat as he stares into Feitan's eyes, but it won't go down.

Feitan rolls over, turning his back towards him.

"Come on! Really now." He practically shouts. But Feitan, _Feitan_ doesn't move a muscle. "You could have killed Kalluto– you could have killed us."

"Not my problem." Feitan says. 

“What’s your issue?” Phinks demands. His hands curl into fists by his side. 

There’s the sound of shuffling. Phinks’ breath lodges in his throat. 

“You overcomplicate things,” Feitan says. 

There’s no sound except for the shifting of sand and then–

“What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?” Something, _something_ has changed between them and he wants to know what. But Feitan doesn’t respond, and Phinks knows he's not going to get a word out of the other, so he grits his teeth and falls into a restless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You don't look good," Shizuku's flat voice is the first thing that greets him the next morning.

"Did you not get enough beauty sleep?" Shalnark snickers, as if he hadn’t been the last of them to wake up.

Phinks groans, rubbing his lower back. "The sand was too soft," he mutters. There must be something in his tone, because Shalnark doesn't continue to pester him.

As they pack up camp and prepare to leave, Phinks steals glances at Feitan. They traveled to Meteor City with only the clothes on their backs as a small detour before they were supposed to rendezvous with Machi and Nobunaga. Feitan yawns, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stretches slowly and languidly, but never meets Phinks' eyes. Phinks wants nothing more than to walk over and ruffle the bird's nest on top of Feitan's head. But he can't do that anymore, so he turns around in silence as he waits for the rest of the ryodan.

Once they reach the next city, the first thing they go to is one of the warehouses to steal more clothes. Kalluto stands in front of the entrance with a wary expression on his face, looking much more like the kid he's supposed to be.

"Take what you want. No one's stopping you." Phinks says before he enters. Normally, their warehouse runs are a fun competition of who can find the most items the fastest, but today there's a distinct lack of warmth flitting near him. Since yesterday, seconds have felt like hours. The blimp ride to Kukan'yu is no better; in fact, it's even worse because Feitan still sits by his side but doesn't speak. Phinks steals glances towards the other man out of the corner of his eye, but for once he can't read the expression on his face.

When they finally reach Zaban City, Phinks steps off the blimp with a sigh of relief. Maybe, maybe now that Chrollo has his Nen back and they're all gathering together, things will return to normal.

However, when he sees Chrollo lounging on the couch of a deserted library, book in hand, Phinks doesn't feel the relief he's been expecting. It's been months since he's seen their leader, since everything at Yorknew City. Chrollo is still as bright as the moon; his eyes still burn with the same zeal as they did all those years ago and his voice is just as smooth, but it's different. Machi is somehow colder than she was before Greed Island. There's a sinister glint in Shalnark and Nobunaga's eyes as they listen to Chrollo's plans.

Phinks shouldn't mind as much as he does. Death and blood have been an integral part of his life– of _their_ lives– from the start. Phinks has lost more things than he can count, but somehow the comfort of Feitan's familiar presence by his side is different. He snorts at the thought. These past few months have made him soft and sentimental.

It takes Phinks another three days of absolute _boredom_ in Zaban City before he finally caves and decides to approach Feitan. He finds Feitan tucked away in the tall stacks of bookshelves idly flipping through one of those grotesque picture books. Phinks pauses, but Feitan still doesn't acknowledge his presence.

"What the hell has been your problem?" Phinks demands. It's nowhere close to the vortex of questions on the tip of his tongue– questions that are only half-formed thoughts– but it's a better start than nothing.

Feitan raises an eyebrow. _My problem?_ he asks silently.

"You've been avoiding me since we got here." Phinks accuses. It's more or less true. More than once, Phinks has opted to go scout the city with Kalluto or do a food run with Nobunaga to avoid the awkward atmosphere that builds up whenever they occupy the same space. Feitan has done the same.

"You started it." The book shuts with a snap and Feitan sits up. His dark eyes gleam in the shadows.

"Urgh," Phinks slams his fist against the nearest bookshelf. He's frustrated; the ryodan's dynamic keeps changing, and he just wants his questions answered.

There's a long moment of silence that seems to stretch on forever, until Feitan breaks it. "You happy that danchou has his Nen back?"

"What? Yes!" Startled, Phinks squints at Feitan. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" The question wasn't an accusation, but something in Feitan's eyes still makes it sting.

Feitan scoffs. He shuts his book, walking towards Phinks until they're toe to toe. "Are. You. Happy?" He asks, jabbing Phinks’ chest with each word.

Phinks opens his mouth to respond, when the automatic "yes" gets stuck in his throat. There's something about the way Feitan looks at Phinks expectantly, a faint twinge of annoyance in the way he frowns, that makes him pause. Somehow, Phinks doesn't think Feitan is just talking about Chrollo regaining his Nen anymore.

Is he happy? Phinks has been content with his life since he left the scrapyard and joined the ryodan. He's never felt freer than he has roaming the world to his heart's content, killing and stealing on small whims. Even these past few months, hunting for a Nen exorcist for Chrollo, Phinks hasn't felt unhappy. But these past few days? The past couple of weeks where the easy banter between him and Feitan shifted into something awkward unsettled him. This time, it's his turn to frown.

"I–" Phinks begins. Feitan observes him behind half-lidded eyes, as if they have all the time in the world. Phinks thinks, really _thinks_ about the past few days, weeks, months, years, before he opens his mouth once more, "What are we?"

Feitan reaches for the collar of his shirt, yanking him down forcefully. Phinks yelps as he loses his grip on the adjacent bookshelf. The only thing that prevents their foreheads from knocking together is Feitan's hand yanking on his hair. Phinks really hopes he doesn't end up with an awkward bald spot.

But when Feitan kisses him, it's soft and slow in ways Phinks has never known. The feeling of his lips is as light as a feather before they become more firm, pressing insistently against Phinks' own as Feitan's tongue glides across his lips. Phinks opens his mouth in response and Feitan continues to kiss him languidly. Something in his chest tightens as Feitan takes his time mapping out his mouth like the it's the first time he's done so.

When they pull apart, Phinks feels dizzy and unsure on his feet; the only thing grounding him is the solid feeling of Feitan's waist under his hands. The bright gleam in Feitan's eyes tells him the only answer he needs.

_The answer to that is more obvious than you think._

Still, it doesn't stop Phinks from asking again, just because he can. "So?" he demands once more, but this time there's a playful grin on his face.

Feitan fixes him with a cool stare, the inky black depths of his eyes speaking for him. " _Baichi,_ I'm Feitan. You're Phinks." He says before he leans forward to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ phinks then asks feitan what he was doing in kakin that one time  
> \+ an alternative title for this would be "local baichi is incompetent with his feelings and well-deserving of the nickname"  
> \+ the missing liver?? well in egyptian mummification canopic jars were used to store and preserve the owner's organs (stomach, intestines, lungs, and liver). the funeral diety imset is associated with the jars, specifically the one containing the liver. ancient egyptians saw the liver as the seat of human emotion, so imset was depicted with a human head. take this as you will  
> \+ as much as i want phinfei to angry makeout i also want them to hold hands and feed each other sweets, pls discuss phinfei with [me](https://www.twitter.com/missletain)


End file.
